


Thoughts

by iduna



Series: Whose Stupid Idea Was This, Anyway? [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Thinking, some cussing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna
Summary: Carys has a few thoughts about her new life, her role, and what's about to happen.





	Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to IncreasingLight, my wonderful Beta. Any mistakes are because I didn't do what she told me to.

Carys Trevelyan sat on the bed of the cottage in Haven. _Her_ cottage, she reminded herself. Her home for the foreseeable future. The idea of having her own things, not communal, property was foreign to her. Not surprising, after slightly more than two decades of living closely with others.

Before she dropped out of the Fade, she had very few things of her own: one spare robe, one set of clean smallclothes, and a small messenger bag containing her valuables. All were destroyed with the Temple, that was certain. The robe and the smallclothes were not a large loss, but the bag and its contents? That she missed, those were the things that were not replaceable.

It was, she thought, somewhat selfish to long for her personal belongings when the world was ending. Her sketch book and embroidery should pale in comparison to the massive loss in life at the Temple. Yet, all she could think about were the small things that she had managed to accumulate since the Circle… fell? Was that the word? What happened at Ostwick was more dramatic than that, but other words didn’t do it justice either. Fell would have to suffice.

Running from the selfish nature of her thoughts wouldn’t do. If there was one thing that Carys believed, it was that as a mage, she needed to be brutally honest with herself. It’s not that lying were morally or ethically reprehensible, she didn’t care about those things at all. Lying, she thought, particularly to oneself, was foolish. Well, foolish for anyone, but dangerously foolish for a mage.

While the demonic was always a risk for a mage, demons weren’t really that imaginative. They could only use what they found in your mind. If a mage knew herself better than the demon could, that risk was lessened. It’s not something that she was taught at the circle, it’s just something she figured out. When trying to gain control, they always got some detail wrong. If you knew yourself better than the demon knew you, those details would be easier to spot.

The loss of the Divine wasn’t something that would cause her grief. One old woman, no matter how important, didn’t concern her. Nor, in fact, was the loss of anyone at the Conclave something to mourn. The Conclave was going to fail, Carys never had illusions about that. While the Mages may have been willing to compromise, may being the important part of that sentence, the Templars would have never given an inch. Anyone that thought differently was delusional.

She thought back to when she agreed to accompany Tethys to the Conclave. She didn’t do it because she thought it would work. As an emissary from Ostwick, she only thought of the marginal safety she’d have, and the knowledge of what to expect when things went sideways again. True, she’d be in a place where a great many Templars were, but she was far from important, and her capture wouldn’t have been a priority. Armed with information instead of rumor, leaving the Temple and staying away from the out of control Templars would have been easier.

The explosion wasn’t part of the plan. Waking up in chains was further from the plan, and being called the Herald of Andraste…

Holy Shit on a piece of toast… Of all the nonsense she was having to deal with, the Herald rubbish was the worst of the lot. Even if she was Andrastian, that was a disaster waiting to happen. Not for a moment did she think that people just started calling her that. That bit of fuckery came from the Left Hand of the Divine. Carys would bet coin… and make a fortune from it.

She caught herself rubbing the mark on her hand. _This is troublesome,_ she thought. It tingled a bit but didn’t hurt most of the time. It hurt like the Void when she used it, and if the Seeker were to be believed, she’d be using it a lot. The possibility of physical pain wasn’t that daunting. She survived the Circle of Magi. Templars could be pedantic when it comes to rules. When it came to punishing transgressions, their methods could be considered inspired by the sadistic.

Agreeing to help the Inquisition wasn’t difficult. She didn’t have much of a choice in the first place. She was the only way to save the world, and Carys didn’t think, even for a moment, that they’d take no for an answer. It was either the illusion of freedom or bars, that was easy enough to decide.

In the second place, well, if the veil was torn and Thedas destroyed, her freedom wouldn’t matter anyway. As a healer, she had learned to save people and mend bodies. Was healing holes in the Veil and saving the world really that different? Well, yes, but still… From the age of 6, service and healing had been pounded into her. It sucked, but she had the skills.

Carys Trevelyan didn’t want to be a part of the Inquisition. She certainly didn’t want to be the Herald of Andraste, but at the age of 27, she had accepted that what she wanted mattered very little.  This whole thing would probably end up killing her, but there was no getting out of it.

Something the apostate, Solas, said, came to mind. “Posturing is necessary. It only matters what type of hero you will be.”

Hero… Fuck… This was worse than she thought.


End file.
